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■p Orphans’ Friend. Price, $1 a year.) OXFORD, N. C., JULY 13, 1883. (VOL. IX. NO. 8. HYMN OP TEUST. ipx OLIVER TVENDEL HOLMES. 0 Love-Divine, that stooped to share Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear, On [Thee we least each earth-born care. We smile at pain while Thou art near! Though long the we.iry way we tread, And sorrows crowd each lingering year, No path we shun, no darkness dread, Our hearts still whispering, Thou art near! When dropping.pieasuresturn to grjef, And trembling faith is changed to fear. The murmnring wind, the quivering leaf Shall shoftly tell us, Thou art near! On Thee we fling our burdening woe, O Love Divine, forever dear. Content to suffer, while we know. Living, and dying. Thou art near! J o, the Angel’s Food is given To the pi^rim who hath striven ; See the children’s Bread IromHeav- Whioh on dogs may ne’er be spent. VeryiBfead,Good Shepherd, tend us; Tesus, of thy love befriend us, Th«iu ^refresh us, thou defend us, Thine eternal goodness send us In t^e land of life to see. Thou fl?ho -all things caiist and knowest, Who on earth soch food bestowest, Grant ;j8 -with thy saints, though lowest, Where the heavenly feast th -u sbowest, Fellow-heirs and guests to be. —8t. Thomas Aqui-aas. From the New York Observer. A BO^S -OF IN- B.Y M, E. WINSLOW. “I think it’s hard if a boy can^t have his own way Inde pendence Day,” said Eugene, as he alaimned the door .of the sitting-room and strode out into the hall with an air which seemed hi .say, that he meant to have it in spite of the pro hibition he had just received. His mother looked pained, 'but wisely forebore to say any.tbiug more just then; she bad forbiddeo her son to join a party of roag*!!, wild boyp, -who were going to Pel ham* fiv© miles away, to spend “the Fourth;” he had never positively disobeyed her thus iar, and she did not think he would do so now, but it was evident that obe dience would be very unwil lingly rendered, and she was too wise to make the struggle harder by more words. She had planned a pleasant way of spending the Fourth for herself and her fatherless boy, and was just going to tell him about it when she was fore stalled by his saying, in an independent manner, “Moth er, I’m going to Pelham to day wath Jake and Oscar; you neecfeait save any sdiuser for me:*’ ^fow, Jake and Oscar were the two worst boys in the village, hut the> were older than Eugene, who fell much flattered by their notice, andimagined thmr slang words and cigarette puffing to be very independent and manly things. They had chafed him a little about being “tied to his mother’s apron strings,” and coidd always make him do pretty much as they chose by patting his soft, curly hair and calling him “Miss Polly.” They taught him a good many things that his mother knew nothing about, even giving him occasional whiffs of their precious cigarettes, whose nauseating effects he made brave efforts to conceal. Mrs. Lament had watched their giowing influence with great alarm, and resolved to do all in her power to coun teract it. Uncle Abner had invited her and Eugene to join the farm party in their long-talk ed-of expedition to Star Moun tain, and although she whs far from strong, and seldo'ra went any distance from home', .she resolved, for her boy'S' sake, to go and have as niOe a time as possible. She' had even made a cherry pio—as sa- orfed to ^he “Fourth of July,” in some parts of the country, as turkeys are to'^‘Thanksgiv ing,” for the pic-nic dinner, and a loaf of iced cocoanut cake, sending all the way to Pelham for the cocoanut, and hurting the ends of her deli cate fingers in grating it, be cause she knew it was some thing of which Eugene was particularly fond. But she had not told him yet, and she thought she would wait now till his temper had cooled down a little, and he came to say he was sorry, as on simi lar occasions he always did. But this time Eugene did not come. His mother waited and waited; then she called, but no one answered or came. So she busied herself in pack ing up the picnic dinner, and then called again. But there was no Eugene to be seen, nor could he be found in the house or garden, nor “dowm the street.’’ Meanwhile the farm wagon drove up, crow ded with girls and boys, all gay and happy, laughing and talking, full of anticipations of the good time they were going to have. There was one seat left for Eugene, but no Eugene appeared to fill it, and after waiting a reasonable time the wagon drove on. Then came the carriage full of older people, but Mrs. Lamont would not go without her boy; he might come in at any mo ment. The carilago could not wait, and the watching, grieved, but loving mother spent her holiday alone. So, our wise and merciful God of ten waits and watches for his wauderinj/, would be-inde- pendent children, and in his holy word belikens his love to that of a mother. Meanwhile Eugene, still full of indignation at not hav ing his own way, stood lean ing idly on the gate, when a party of badly dressed, ill- looking boys came along; it would have puzzled jmy one to see what a well-brought-up, gentlemanly boy could find to like in them. “Hallo, Gene,” said the foremost; “all ready; we’ll see fun to-day; hurry, we’ll be too late for the train.” “I can’t go,”said Eugene,pit ifully, “Mother said I musii’t.” “And so you were fool enough to ask her. Myl what a baby.*’ “I didn’t ask her; I just told her I was going, but she said I musn^t.” “Then show her you’re man enough to keep your word. Uome, Gene, you’ll be a baby all your life, I do be lieve,’’ said Oscar. “Let him Mone,” said Jake, contemptuously. “We don’t want infanta with us; its In ■ dependence Day. I know a little fellow that will be glad enough to' see the fun, and won’t ask the women either,” and he pretended to pass on. “Stop,’' said Eugene, who did not care so much about going as he did about being thought manly by the boys. “If I only dared, I’d go.” “Daredf’ returned the oth- 'dr contemptuously. “I tell you what, Gene, ifyon’ro such a coward, we fellows won*t have anything to say to you. Now, will you go or stay? One minute, and we’re off.” Before the minute had pass ed poor Eugene, who was too much of a coward to brave the disapprobation of bad boys, had leaped the gate, and all five were running across the field to the depot, where they arrived just in time to catch the train for Pelham. We shall not follow them through their day of so-called pleasure; nor tell how hot and dusty and crowded the coun try town was. It is not nec essary to repeat the bad lan guage used by the big, rough boys, nor to tell how pitifully the little ones tried to imi tate it. There was a celebra tion, with a parade of soldiers and citizens and Sunday- schools, and speeches in the Town Hall; but Jake and Os car preferred to keep their ad miring dependents in the neighborhood of the drinking booths, where they did not dare to refuse the poor lem onade “with ,a stick in it,” the adulterated “lager,” and the poisened cigarettes of which their more experienced com panions insisted upon their partaking. At length Jake drew out of his pocket a dirty pack of cards and began teaching his companions some disreputable games. These soon led to quarrels and a fight in wliich poor Eugene was so much worsted, .and so much incens ed at being called “soft’’ by his older and more sinewy companions, that he abruptly quitted them and took the first tral',1 for his home, which he reached at about five o’clock. The house looked so cool and sweet as he walked up to the door, that he began to feel ashamed of himself, and all the more so when his mother, who sat in sad lone liness on the shaded piazza, washed the begrimmed face and applied healing Jotio,Ds to the bruise on his forehead without a word. Then she led him to the fair, white ta ble, where the cherry pie and cake and more substantial provisions awaited the hungry boy. ** But by this time Eugene’s conscience, which was a ten der one, and had been well cultivated, would not let him eat. He rose from the table, threw his arms round his mother’s neck, and gave way to a flood of tears that his late companions would have called “babyish” but which the angels, who always look down upon human affairs, knew denoted the most manly action of the boy’s life. “I’m such a bad, disobedi ent fellow, mother” be said as well as his sobs would let “that I am ashamed of my self, I wonder you aren’t ashamed to call me your son!” “But you are my son, Eu gene,” she said gravely, re turning his caresses, “now finish your supper and we will talk it all over.” Eugene could eat now, and ho did full justice to all the good things, after which he sat on the piazza with his mother, and tbe talk which they then had the boy never forgot. We are not going to detail it. Mrs. Lamont made her boy tell her all the particu lars of his day, which, asham ed as he now was, was per haps the heaviest punishment she could have inflicted, he was a truthful boy and he told it >11. Then she told him all about the excursion to -Star Mountain, and he saw at once how much he had missed. “Why didn’t you go moth er?” said jSugene suddenly. Do you think I could en joy myself while my boy was sinful or unhappy?” said she, and her look said more to her boy’s awakened conscience than her words; “I had ratli- er sit here waiting till he came back to bis better self, even if it was lonely.’’ So Jesus was content to suffer tliat liis prod igals, whose repentance is his ‘‘joy, ” might come to them selves. Here the wise motlier told her son once more—what we have all need again and again to remember- -the, true mean ing of our American Fourth of July. How our forefathers, brave, wise, moral, industrious and order-loving, werodriv.en to sign a Declaration of Iiide- pondeuce because they desir ed .to obey law and not be forc ed by tyranny to break it, and how instead of each man be ginning to follow out his own way, which would be license, they bound themselvt; at once to obey rightful authority and enforce righteous law, which {^ liberty. Still further she told him that to be afraid to do' right is the meanest kind of cowardice^ that bad habits are the worst kind ol masters, and that the most abject slaves are those who are governed by the opinions ol the base and vile. “Lets get a light," said Eii • gene, after a good deal of this kind of talk. “I want to write something.”* TUhn, after they had ad journed to the sitting room, he got [>aper and pen, and, after many change •, for 'he was not much of a wiiter, he produced the following: “deolabation op indepen dence. “I, Eugene Lamount, de clare that I will not, from this Fourth of July, 18—, be the slave ol any bad habits, smoking, drinking, swearing, disobedience, etc. Also, I will be independent of bad boys; I won’t do what they tell me; nor mind what they think of me; and I will do all can to grow up a noble, tt’ue, honest, intelli gent, law-obeying American citizen (Mrs. Lamo.it supplied some of the words), so help me God. Eugene Lamont.” “You see 1 put my name at botli ends to be sure I’d keep it,” said Eugene, as his mother carefully read over the composition. “Those last weirds sound rather lawyerlike,’* stid.she, “but I like them. My boy,you will have need daily to seek the help of God to enabh' you to keep such a pledge as that. True independence for a boy, a man, or a nation, is to I e maintained only by complete dependence upon God, and implicit obedience to his law.”' “At tliat moment the sound of wheels was heard, the Star Mountain party drove u)), full of talk concerning the delights of their day. They stayed some time, and one misclnev 0U8 girl, getting hold of the “declaration,*’ read it aloud, signed it herself, and poisuad- all the other boys >ind girls to de so. Perhaps a jn-osper- ous community of future cit izens may have good cau.se for a Fourth of July celebra tion from the results of that act. “Mother will God forgive my disobedience?’’ said Eli- gene, as lie went to his room that night. “Yes, dear, if you ask and trust him, and more, he will give you the victory in eviTy temptation, and over all evil habits; for while we may sign a declaration of independtajo of the powers of evil, it i.s on Iv He who can give us the victory in the figlit-" That Eugene Lamont is now a noble, Christian man, independent in thought, and resolute in action, is no doubt .largely owing to God’s bless ing upon the faded paper on which his “declaration” is written, in boyish characters, and which he still carries in his pocket. ON A short time ago the Em peror Franz Joseph and the King of Saxony were out shooting together. Night came on, andtheroyjil .nnoits- men, finding themselves at a considerable distance Irmu the Residence, hailed a pass - ing wagoa driven by a stolid- looking |)ea8ant, and got in When they came to their journey’s end, the Emperor slipped a few florins into the peasant’s h nd, and said, smiling: “Do you know whom you have been driving?” “No “You have been driving the Emperor of Austria and the King of Saxony.” The peas ant, who was convinced that he was being lioaxed, replied with a chuckle: “And do you know who I am?” “No*’’ “Wt^ll, I am the Shah of fer- sia ” And he whipped up his horse and departed. All internal revenue taxa tion, except on spirits and to bacco in tlieir various forms, ceased the 1st inst. Clieck’s drafts, orders, voucher, matches, perfumery, jiroprie- tary medicines, bitters, &c., now require no stamps. 'Piiore is also a change in the jiostal, law, which took effect tlio 1st inst., reducing the cost ol'nion- ey orders. The reduction of letter postage to two cents be gins October 1st. The postal notes for amounts umier $5 will be issued in September, if ready for use by that time. SCRIPTURE TESTIMONY &IVIN&. “Freely ye have received, freely give.” There is a sweet reasonableness in this argu ment, that it is hard to get away from. Why give free ly? Becan.so ye have freely re ceived. Thyself a benefici ary, be l)ene(icent towards thy felows less favored than tiiyself. Not, only reasonable but all-inclusive. Art, thou not embraced? “He that sowetli spariitgly shall reap also sparingly.” Other things being equal, it is the bountiful sower that reaps the bountiful liarve.sf. It istlie liarvest--tlHi income —that we are all after. That, in some sense, is the measure of our live'^. Out of a scant, stingy seed-sowing comes a sparse, lean growth and a slight, weak yield. Brother, it is jii>t as I rue of your giv ing for Christ, and your sow ing in the worldHield of man kind as ill ordinary husband ry. Are you wise in the lat ter and foolish in tlie former? “SIio hath given more than they all.” What! actually more over the counter of tbe treasury? Nay, not more as men count, but more as God counts. Ilis standard of meas ure is not the number or the size of tJio -,oins, Imt the gieatness of tiiy heart, aiul the purity of thy motives So weighed, this poor widow stood high. Nay, of two im mortalized by the Master she is o)ie. One of the two out of the many seen in all the life o.f our Lord. Many giv ers, few remarkable givers, even though they lay down their milions. Over against the ricli, tliis poor widow and the trifle in her poor old hand. They, out of their abundance, what they could well enough spare; she, out of her poverty, all her living. Righteous judgment of the unerrini> Wis dom Weighing thou and thy gilts, what, think ye, is lie saying of tliee? “If there be first a willing mind, it is accepted aecordlng to that a man hath, and not according to that he liatli not.’’ Three tin igs essential, bles sedly essential, to acceptable giving. The willing mind, the cheer ful, unguarding spirit—this is what we might call the sub jective element. This is the starting point. Tiiis gives quality to the transaction. Then, objectively, it is Lo bo according to that a man hath. What he has i:ot got and can not honestly get, the Lord does not want. He need not borrow nor steal to make au offering to the Lord—except as a man ot means may al ways make a loan, within limits, in aid of any lawlul purpose. But according to that a man hath, cuts both ways. It is vo.y comforting to Mr. Groatlie.art, wbf» has but very little money. Wlnit saith it to Mr. Closltist, who will give somothiiig, but only a makeshift—a mere nothing out of Ids affluence? Suppo.-o he was a willing mind, thus far, does tliat meet the con dition of accuptablo oiving? Nay, friend—“ai’iiorling to that a man hath.’ God hath joined those two things. But them not asunder : j .'i :■ : hi
The Orphans’ Friend (Oxford, N.C.)
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July 13, 1883, edition 1
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